Elke said, “Ah, there is the paranoia I’d missed so much when on Earth. It is so good to be normal again.”
“Indeed. Everyone stow your personals, we’ll take a tour and discuss security. Beer when we’re back.”
“Uniform up. We’ll blend in better.”
In ten minutes they were ready, as a gaggle who presented as military while looking nothing like a formation. It would be obvious to any troop with experience they were “Security contractors,” and high-placing ones. They had a company combat uniform that would make them look like any one of dozens of regional or national contingents.
They went out the foot gate of their compound and onto the broad base itself. There were islands of palm trees, a few flowerbeds, both maintained by bored, off-duty troops, and the usual block billets, portable concessionaires and heavy impact barriers around all important buildings.
A squad of troops went past in an open-backed Grumbly, heading for what appeared to be guardmount at the nearest Entry Control Point. But
…
Aramis gaped. “What in the name of every god there is is that?”
Jason said, “That’s the new camo.”
Alex asked, “What in the hell were they thinking?” They sounded as incredulous as Jason had felt when he first saw it.
“It’s supposed to fool the eye.”
“It’s bloody pink and orange with purple highlights,” Alex repeated.
“Yes, the theory is that the colors are designed for optical interference. They’re as far from anything natural as possible, which throws the brain off for a moment. The contrast between them disrupts outlines, and the blotches are computer designed to create artificial depth. Their lab tests say it takes about point four seconds for any response, plus normal reaction time. It makes them harder to hit. In addition, tactical lighting or flares create similar illusions.”
“It’s bloody pink and orange.”
Elke said, “With a reflective belt.” She sounded amused.
Aramis said, “That’s for safety in the dark. Regulations.”
“It’s a war zone and it’s daylight.”
“You’re expecting logic?” Jason asked.
Alex said, “No, but I’d hope that someone with a clue and a spine and some brass would at some point in the process say, ‘This is fucking stupid,’ and put a stop to it.”
Jason said, “Yeah, I wondered about that too. Just as I think it can’t possibly get stupider, it does.”
Bart said, “At a guess, I can locate that three kilometres away, without optics.”
“It’s the best camouflage ever devised. Their official reports say so.”
“Uh huh.” Alex looked meaningfully at the Catafract pattern they wore. Jason tried to. This stuff was near impossible to focus on, with its lines fading in and out of the surface, the texture shifts and the treatment that reflected nearby coloring from its neutral gray areas between the colors.
Jason said, “Yeah, they were offered this and refused.”
“I can’t wait to find out why.”
“Officially, it’s not as good, per their tests. Unofficially, I suspect a combination of not-invented-here and production cost. This stuff is expensive, but it does work.”
“While I guarantee that doesn’t.” Alex pointed in the general direction of the troops.
“The people in the Army Field Research Center say it does.”
Shaman said, “Let’s put one of them in it and find out.”
“Believe me, you are not the first person to suggest that.”
Alex waited for the reply from his boss. He had a local legal contact now, to respond to the issues that were certainly going to arise, including this one. Highland’s stupid stunt was worthy of cancelling the contract on the spot and leaving her hanging, and he’d like nothing better. No one else could be on station in less than two weeks, no one was as good, and the administration apparently wasn’t going to give her official escort.
The message chimed in, and he sat up. First, it had to be downloaded to his secure stick. That got transferred to the closed system, checked for security, then decrypted.
He waved the file open and read.
“Proceed as ordered. Principal will be extremely difficult. Invoice will reflect this. We’re playing our own game as part of this, and need to maintain at least peripheral involvement for the future. Make all efforts to cooperate as far as your judgment indicates. There is potential long term benefit regardless of how the election turns out.”
Well, that was that. The boss knew she was an insane client, and wanted to proceed. So, those were his orders. He didn’t have to like them. It did, however, color how he was to respond.
Elke really needed those explosives. She always asked for more than she needed, and she used them as often as she could, but they did keep the clients alive. Without them, she was just one more suited goon. With them, she was a logarithmic force exponentiator.
As to lethal force, they always had used it, and Highland had to know that. They didn’t unless necessary, but the two key rules of executive protection were to stop the threat and evacuate the area. If one didn’t want to evacuate, stopping the threat was more critical. If one was agreeable to it, and had good police support, the threat could be ignored. Ripple Creek got hired for events where the feasibility for both was reduced, which meant applying their own force-killing the threat. This was understood, historically observable fact.
With that in mind, Highland was not stupid, so she was self-obsessed. She really thought that her opinion would change their MO. Likely, she was very used to getting her way. That did fit her background.
His office chair was comfortable but he was nonetheless tense. This was going to be an aggravating mission.
He wiped the file, randomized the stick, and removed it.
Elke thought the Security Directorate building was reasonably secure. It had a gated fence inside crash barriers, a double translucite overhead with a sloped and surface-hardened roof. They were locked in through three sets of doors, ID checked, scanned, their personal weapons hand-checked and returned. Elke reluctantly surrendered her glasses because of the built-in cameras. Then they were inside and in a much smaller function space.
“Good thickness,” she said.
Jason said, “It is, and layered. They won’t give details, but I think they’re safe enough. Now here’s where it gets confusing.” He waved them into a small conference room, and followed.
“Team, this is Captain Jason Das. For obvious reasons, we will call him Captain or Das, not Jason. Sir, this is the team.”
Elke nodded as she was introduced. Das sounded Canadian. He wore the older style uniform, not the pink sracku.
He shook hands all around, then said, “I’m tasked with liaising with you. Given your principal, I’d have expected one of the majors to take it, or even the colonel himself, but they’re already multiply booked.”
She wondered if they’d found a way to be too busy. The principal was a bitch even by Elke’s standards.
Jason, their Jason, said, “He’ll provide us with whatever intel security comes down, which of course comes from Intelligence first, then to here, then to us.”
Das said, “I’ll be as quick with it as I can, but it does have to be processed, and cleared for release. I can clear some of it, but the general has various subjects, which I can’t discuss I’m afraid,” he looked embarrassed, “that he wants a tight hold on. So the higher ups have to approve those items. Of course, no one wants to risk Minister Highland unnecessarily, but military operations do have their role, and the general will give those equal priority.”
Elke hoped it was higher priority, really, even if it increased their risk on the ground. Highland was one person, and there were a lot of troops involved.
He seemed to pause for questions, so she asked, “Captain Das, through which channel should I inquire about my explosive? The weapons are here, my demolition gear is not.”